


A New Assignment

by vmprsm



Series: LC Destin [5]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, he isnt going anywhere, mentions of asshole thief, these two are workaholics, tying it all into canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 23:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8642830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vmprsm/pseuds/vmprsm





	

_ Six months after the events of Florrum _

 

He was like a ghost. A really stupid, annoying, life-ruining ghost. His ship would be found in their territory, in some small space scrapyard, or he would be seen on some no-name claimed planet, with a quick wink or a  _ He-llo, missy,  _ across the channel, and then he was gone. For weeks at a time, not a trace, not even after she’d put the damn tracer on him. The credit trick unfortunately had only gotten them so far as his next pit-stop, troopers had found the chip in a sink.  _ That _ had grated on her nerves so badly that she had snapped at one of her technicians shortly after, and she felt horrible about it. Who was this jerk to mess with her well-controlled emotions? It was becoming something of a vendetta, and she kept her datapad open to the  _ Finalizer’s _  scanners in case they caught his ship’s signature again. It wasn’t protocol, certainly, but wasn’t she supposed to keep track of all systems functionality? It was just an extension of her job description, going the extra mile to secure the safety of her ship. 

 

She paused, her caf cooling in the mug and datapad propped up on her multitool. The General’s ship. Not her ship. As much as she regarded the Resurgent-class as a precious child, something she protected and cared for with no limits, it was still not hers, and never would be. 

 

Wouldn’t it be lovely to have her own ship? Maybe not even a Star Destroyer, that was asking quite a bit too much, but even an assault cruiser, or maybe a stealth ship, something she could tinker and upgrade and call her pride, and hers alone. 

 

Sighing, her hand came up to prop her chin as she gazed blankly at the far wall. That was never really meant to be, she was an officer, and her skills were meant for the progression of the Order, not her own petty desires. 

 

Destin was so lost in her own mind that when the indistinct grey wall turned into a fuzzy pale face, she didn’t immediately snap to attention. When the face cleared their throat however, she jumped and straightened, the image resolving into the General’s tired visage. 

 

“General, sir!” She piped, hands floundering momentarily before she forced them to settle around her cup. She was always at a loss for what to do with her hands, it seemed. 

 

“Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted, a somewhat bemused slant to his eyes, “good morning.”

 

“Is it?” She glanced at the datapad: 0600. Had she really worked through the night shifts? She was supposed to only go through til 2300, but there was always more work...the replacement of the cooling system was nearing the end of its validation testing, and she just wanted so desperately for it to be finished so she could focus on the next project. “It...it is. Good morning.”

 

His face held firm, a gentle thing that suited the way the softer mess hall lights reflected off his eyes, turning them an icier green. 

 

“I have something I must speak with you about. Classified, if you’d come to my office.”

 

She blinked. Maybe she was more tired than she thought. “Certainly, sir, but...if I may ask,” she paused and he didn’t stop her, “why did you come personally? I always have my pad.”

 

“I was doing my normal rounds of the ship, and I passed by. Though perhaps the meeting should be scheduled for a later time? As you seem to not quite be in top form at the moment.” 

 

Destin gave him a puzzled look, and in response he reached out and pointed down at her pad. She followed his gaze, and saw the blinking icon of the messaging system. She opened it, and the message from Hux had been sent to her more than a half hour ago. She hadn’t even seen it. 

 

He watched her slap a hand to her forehead and groan. “I apologize sir, I was...deep in my thoughts.”

 

“I’ve told you more than once about neglecting personal needs. If pushed too far, the body will fail you.”

 

It  _ had _ been more than once, but more often regarding her tendency to want to get something done as fast as possible, or taking it all on her own. The thought was vaguely annoying, and the words slipped out before she could process them. “You’re one to be giving out that advice.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her and she slowly covered her mouth with her hand, mortified. It was an open secret that the General worked insane hours, if he went to his quarters there was a widespread agreement between all the higher officers: don’t bother him unless the ship is literally under attack, including by Kylo Ren on a case-by-case basis, or was about to have a critical meltdown. They all knew he didn’t get enough personal time, to sleep or otherwise, and if he took respite it was because he had to. That said, it was inviting a write-up to mention it at all. The General gave his all to his duty, and no one had a right to question his methods. 

 

“Sir, I am-”

 

He held up a hand and she snapped her mouth shut, still behind her fingers. “I will let that slide given that fact that you have not slept in a minimum of twenty-four hours, and to a maximum of sixteen over the past standard week. Don’t be surprised, I keep track of all my best officer’s activities to ensure their success. While you are yet successful, eventually you will make a mistake at the rate you are pushing yourself. I say so with the confidence of experience.”

 

“S-sir.” She stuttered, then remembered he hated stuttering. It seemed every other week she was somehow putting her foot in her mouth or otherwise making a fool of herself. Maybe she wouldn’t be so likely to do so if they didn’t keep seeing each other. But the project had kept them in close contact, he would show up randomly to personally oversee one thing or another and their correspondence over the message system was not infrequent, and now that she had been invited to the upper officer’s meeting she saw him there, too. It was a little overwhelming, being so close to the top, like sitting in the sun too long. It felt nice, but of course you would eventually burn yourself. And burned she had. Several times now, by saying or doing some stupid thing in front of the sun himself. The fact he still had patience for her was truly a testament to his mental fortitude, and his aptitude as a General.

 

She pushed on, “Sir, I am available to meet. I don’t want to create an inconvenience in your schedule. I will retire to my quarters directly after.”

 

The look he gave her was searching, though for what she wasn’t sure. Possibly to verify her alertness. She plastered on her most common smile, the one that passed her through her day. 

 

“Very well,” he said just as the silence was beginning to become awkward, “let’s go now, then. I have to meet the hyperdrive engineers in an hour.”

 

He got up from the table and she followed, separating briefly to dump out her caf and set the mug on the automated return shelf. Goodness, what she wouldn’t give to be allowed near the hyperdrives. She had some hand in every system on the ship, but that didn’t mean she had the clearance to actually touch some of it. She could allocate crews as she pleased, but they worked off their own schedule with or without her interference. It was a complicated relationship to be sure, but one that kept things compartmentalized.  But the hyperdrive on such a gigantic ship was a thing of beauty and modern marvels, and though she knew the basics of the system used by recent Star Destroyers and other large ships, even seeing the schematics would be a pure joy. 

 

Some days she wondered if she should have focused as an engineer, but the lure of seeing the whole ship run as a chorus of individual systems was one she would never have been able to ignore. 

 

They walked down the halls in amicable silence, and she smiled as she always did at the passers-by. Some of them looked confused to see her walking at an even pace to the General, but others had gotten used to it over the past several months as they moved between a worksite and a meeting, or from his office to their respective duties, or some combination. She didn’t feel strange about it much anymore, but she did still have the dilemma of being unsure of formality at times. The General made the rules of engagement and he was not keen on detailing them, you were expected to simply keep up. 

 

He keyed into his office, and stood out of the way for her. As they settled in, she perched on the edge of her chair to stay alert. Whatever this was, she wasn’t going to miss a word, sleep-deprived or not.

 

Hux pulled up several screens on his holocomputer, but did not yet turn on the projector. Then, he laced his fingers and set them gently on the desk, squaring his shoulders and looking at her closely once again.

 

“There is a...project, upcoming, that I am trying to pull a team together for. They would be the executive authority on their chosen aspects of the project from the groundbreak to the final switch installation. I am yet in need of an architect.”

 

“What is the scale of this project? Is there an estimated timeline?”

 

“Approximately two years, less if we can contract outside of our current range.”

 

She couldn’t help it, “Are we building another Star Destroyer, sir? Something past the Resurgent-class? Or a new class of warship?”

 

“The scale of this project is larger still. The blueprints are already drawn and the cost estimated, but we need the detail work. Someone who can have the forethought to assure it will all fit together, down to the last bolt.”

 

Destin fidgeted slightly, scooting back in her seat. There was a light to the General’s eyes that was inspiring yet off-putting. “With respect sir, either you believe I can do it or not, and I would think I would not be here if it was the latter, but I cannot assure you of my capability unless I know at least some aspect of this project.”

 

“And I cannot show you the project unless you agree to do it. It seems we are at an impasse.” He leaned back, hands sliding into his lap. He continued. “Destin, how do you feel about the First Order?”

 

She immediately felt the trap as it was set around her. More than one person had held doubts about her loyalty. Coming from a Core world, born and bred in the cradle of the New Republic, she had not experienced the struggle nor the hate bred in First Order space, far in the Outer Rim. She could not pretend to understand. But she had always been loyal to the cause that would support her, whatever that was. She knew the New Republic would avoid this brewing conflict at all costs, and pragmatically, it would mean people would suffer longer. She would rather throw in her lot with the side moving to act, to create a balance where before there was none. Loss was inevitable, it only mattered by what banner it occurred under. She had wanted to work on starships, they gave her a job. It was almost as simple as that, but if pressed, as she was now, she would admit to the ideology: if a conflict were inevitable, she would prefer to be on the side that faced it head on, without regret, willing to do what it took. There were First Order politicians, assuredly, those who tried to sway the New Republic by words towards the Order’s plan, but the old blood of the Core was stubborn. She should know. There was no doubt in her mind that it would come down to laser fire and military negotiation under duress.

 

As she thought he watched her. It was never good to keep a superior officer waiting. “In simple terms, I feel the Order is doing the right thing.”

 

“Right?”

 

“Necessary.” She affirmed.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because the New Republic is turning a blind eye, while the First Order has opened theirs wide. There is work to be done.”

 

He unlocked his fingers and waved a hand, some small amount of tension leaving his shoulders. “Ah, that flowery language. You give away your heritage.”

 

“Gladly.” She replied, with a thread of iron in her voice but a look of amusement. 

 

He laughed. Actually  _ laughed.  _ Destin, in her surprise, was unsure if it was at her or because of her. Or if it was entirely unrelated. It was a short thing, only a lungful of the short, deep sound before he pulled himself together. “I appreciate your dedication to work. I believe you are the architect for this project. Are you willing to commit yourself?”

 

There was a pause, and Destin considered her options. It sounded to her as if she would have to leave the  _ Finalizer _ . That would be displeasing. But on the other hand, she would get the authority she had craved, needed, to feel the success long denied her intelligence. 

 

He leaned in, closing the space between them to a mere foot or so. She could see the small creases on his otherwise immaculate nose between his eyes, becoming ingrained from years of stress. “This project could mean an early end to this war, for you and I both know that is what it is even if the New Republic has not declared it so.”

 

If he was exploiting her, twisting her thoughts into the form that best suiting his argument and passing it back to her, she would neither be surprised nor displeased. He was truly a genius. 

 

“I will accept the posting, sir.”

 

He smiled, so quickly and viciously, that a shiver went down her spine in the sparse second it was in view. Reaching aside he tapped and the project came up, the largest file in the center of a huge, slowly rotating ball. In the center was a cut-in line, and a large yawning mouth, its depth not understandable in the poor holo reconstruction of the blueprint. 

 

“This is Starkiller.”


End file.
